Post Traumatic Stress
by Daggerpoint
Summary: Sam and Mikaela deal with the emotions of surviving Mission City. Please read the AN at the top of the page.


AN: I wrote this story to help me deal with my own post-traumatic stress, after a very bad car accident I was in recently where my car was hit from behind and rolled. Sam and Mikaela's behavior mimics my own, including the fact that they have very few physical injuries so please don't flame.

Post-Traumatic Stress

by Daggerpoint

Samuel J. Whitwicky was pacing again. It had been about a week since Mission City and it was almost as though nothing had changed. Except for his inability to sit still or focus, and the nightmares. Especially the nightmares. Except they were not products of his overactive imagination. They where real. Memories. Every night he relived every moment of the battle, or being cornered by Barricade.

It was amazing he had come out of it as unscathed as he had. Bumps, bruises, cuts, but miraculously nothing broken, and he was alive. He tried not to think about that fact. The fact that the only reason he was alive was he was very damn lucky.

Pausing in his pacing he flopped on the couch, and checked his watch. It was close to 1. He pushed himself back to his feet and began to pace again. His parents couldn't't understand this behavior. They had tried to make everything as normal as possible, but what they didn't understand was that nothing was going to be normal again. Sam thought back to what the psychologist the military had brought in had said. This behavior was normal. It was an attempt to rationalize things that defied reason. But it didn't feel normal. He should be stronger then this. But even saying it didn't mean he could beat post-traumatic stress.

His phone vibrated and he flipped it open. "'Lo." It was Mikaela. Beautiful, fiery Mikaela. She was in the same state he was in. He smiled. "Bee and I will right over." Sam grabbed his wallet and left a note for his parents. It had become their routine to go driving together when things got to be to much.

Bee was waiting, driver's door open. The radio was tuned into a soft jazz station. It was something all three of them had agreed was soothing. Without a word Sam slid in, and the door closed behind him. With a soft purr Bee pulled out and head to Mikaela's.

It didn't take long before Mikaela joined them, sliding noiselessly into the passenger's side They didn't talk, just let the radio play. Sam held out his hand and Mikaela put her's in it. They had discovered that touching helped. It proved they where there, that some one cared, that they where alive and uninjured.

This wasn't the only way they dealt with it. They would talk and cry, and rage, wishing for normality. It wasn't that they regretted what happened, or they're new friends. But they were only human, and sometimes it was too much to deal with.

So they had started these drives. Sam looked up they had paused at the lookout. Mikaela got out and perched on Bee's hood. Sam got out more slowly, and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her. She leaned into the embrace, and began to cry. Neither Bee nor Sam asked why. She probably couldn't tell them herself. Sam had also had these break downs. He just let her cry, and when the tears had dried they just sat there. Eventually Sam slipped of the hood and pulled Mikaela with him. The got back into the patient Camero, but instead of sitting in the front seats they slipped into the back, cuddling together.

Bee began to drive again, switching the radio from one soft song to another nearly seamlessly. He monitored the two humans in the back, watching as they both slipped into much needed recharge. It hurt him to see them like this. Although most of the physically the pain had faded, emotionally they were still trying to come to grips with everything that happened. They were getting better. It was a slow process, but they where better. In fact tonight had taken less then half the time it had that first night for them to be able to sleep. Bee hummed to himself, as he continued to drive. This wasn't something that would just go away, but they would adjust, and survive. And he would be there with them every small step they took towards regaining their lives.

AN2: This is my first Transformers fanfiction, although I have been reading them for awhile. Also please make note this has not been betad and if they're are any obvious typos, please point them out. They are most likely there because I have a sprained finger which is buddy taped and it makes typing awkward. Thanks.


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